


The Long Con

by Mr_Customs_Man



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mpreg, Multi, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Customs_Man/pseuds/Mr_Customs_Man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of Antivan Crows get their hands on Sebastian and force him into heat. Hawke is determined to find out who ordered this and make them pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Good morning, Sister Evangeline. Could you tell me where I might find Sebastian?”

Grand Cleric Elthina looked up from the letters in her hand at the sound of Joanna Hawke’s voice. She swallowed back the uncharitable and mean-spirited thoughts that rose unbidden in her mind. It was wrong, she knew. Elthina tried to be more forgiving, more understanding, and yet… She detested the way the alpha sniffed around the Chantry like a wolf who had caught the scent of a doe. And that was exactly what Sebastian was to Hawke: easy prey. Sebastian had come so far since those early years, she would hate to see him dragged back into sin and vice, abandoned when his so-called friends could no longer gain any use from him. And Hawke… The girl was an apostate and would be thrown to the Templars if anyone ever found out; what better way to escape the Gallows then by claiming Sebastian and his title? Elthina kept silent for now, but only just. Sebastian had told her of Hawke’s abilities during confession; she would not betray his confidence by going to the Templars. But if Hawke took advantage of her wayward priest, then Maker help her…

Sebastian entered the oratory then and Hawke made a show of lighting one of the candles like she hadn’t seen him, her face a picture of reverence. He greeted her, bow already in hand and eager for whatever new misadventure Hawke had up her sleeve. He fell into step beside her as they made their way out of the Chantry, and Hawke threw her head back and shook her dark hair, her gait taking on that particular alpha swagger whenever they happened to be in the presence of a pretty omega.

Elthina sighed and shook her head. Well, Sebastian wasn’t a babe in the woods. He had been down this path before, and while Elthina might not like it the Maker knew he wasn’t going to listen to anything she said. The Grand Cleric could only hope that no harm came to him while in Hawke’s care.

* * *

Varric had grown up on the surface, but he didn’t think he would ever understand alphas and omegas. The way alphas preened and strutted every time a pretty omega complimented them sent Kirkwall’s dwarven population laughing into their drinks. Not even Hawke was immune. Hawke’s reputation as a cold miser was… well, not undeserved. She had only one goal: take care of her family. She was convinced that the only way this could be done was by acquiring more and more wealth. Since Carver’s death in the Deep Roads, this goal had become a single-minded obsession. He knew that was the initial reason why she had gone after Sebastian, vows of chastity be damned. Hawke had very few scruples when it came to making money; seducing a chaste Chantry omega into marriage wouldn’t be the worst thing she had done. But something had changed.

He watched the storm-cloud that marred her beautiful face grow darker and darker as Yevhen continued to chew her out over the actions of his fool sons, as though she was responsible for them. “If you think I’m going down into the Deep Roads just to rescue three idiotic boys without a lick of sense between them then-” Hawke began, only to cut herself off when she caught sight of Sebastian’s disapproving frown.

“… then you would be… right,” she finished, a strained and awkward smile gracing her face.

Sebastian beamed at her. Hawke just sighed.

This wasn’t the same old song and dance routine that usually played out between alphas and omegas. This was something new, and from the way Sebastian smirked to himself the dwarf guessed that he knew it too. Varric hoped whatever it was between them would continue. It was hilarious.

“Let’s go make the preparations,” Hawke grunted, pointedly looking away as Yevhen continued to thank her profusely. Her face was beginning to turn an interesting shade of scarlet.

Sebastian smiled. He knew Hawke possessed a kind soul, no matter how she tried to hide it. Death and poverty had marked her, made her hard, but she could rise above it. She just needed a little support and guidance. “I’m proud of you,” Sebastian said quietly as he came up beside Hawke.

Hawke huffed. “Good. Then you can explain to my mother why her last remaining child is going to traipse around the Deep Roads, I’m sure she’ll love that.”

“You’re helping someone in need. Your mother will understand that.”

“And if I die? There will be no one left to look after her,” Hawke countered. “I will always put me and mine first.” She looked at him then, up and down as though she could crack him open and peer into his very soul. She made it clear that she considered Sebastian a part of “mine”.

Sebastian felt himself grow hot. “Don’t go including me in that,” he warned. “I’m already claimed.”

Hawke grinned then, salacious and predatory. “Only metaphorically.”

“And legally. I’d hate to see you imprisoned for laying hands on an avowed Brother.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the Maker isn’t doing a very good job of taking care of His omegas. I don’t see Him coming down here from on high to give you a helping hand when it’s ‘your time’.”

“That is blasphemous and inappropriate,” Sebastian stated primly, making Hawke laugh. He could only imagine what his face looked like. “I need to go back to the Chantry.”

“So long as you’re ready to leave for the Deep Roads at dawn! You got me into this mess, I’ll make sure you see me through it!”

* * *

“I could have had a sword,” Hawke grumbled. She swung her staff out as she walked, deliberately whacking it against the side of the mountain with every step.

Sebastian nearly rolled his eyes at the childish display. “You’re a mage. What would you have done with a sword?”

“Sell it. Open letters. Cut a cake. What couldn’t I have done with it?”

“Instead you saved a man’s life,” Sebastian smiled, trying to appeal to her better nature.

Hawke responded by blowing a raspberry.

“Alphas are suppose to protect people. It’s part of what makes them so attractive.” Sebastian looked at her demurely, using his sex in a way he hadn’t in years.

Hawke shot him a glare. “That’s cheating.”

“I know,” he said with a smile, before trotting ahead to chat with Isabela. Hawke watched him go, letting her eyes linger on his arse.

“So, I’m thinking of writing a new book about an apostate alpha who kidnaps an omega from the Chantry to have her wicked way with. He resists at first, but he just can’t resist the siren’s call of instincts.” Varric grinned up at Hawke. “What do you think?”

“Don’t write porn about me and Sebastian.”

“I’m insulted! My books are pure, high-brow literature! Besides, Isabela’s already beaten me to it. Names have been changed to protect the innocent, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who Princess Sebina Voile of Starkhaven is.” Varric folded his arms and pouted. “Love Beyond the Walls is currently outselling Swords and Shields.”

Hawke shook her head, a grin tugging at her lips. “You know, Varric, I’ve always wondered why all your romances are between alphas and omegas, and never betas like dwarves. It makes me think that maybe you’d like to experience what we go through yourself. What about it, eh? Do you want an omega beneath you, begging for your knot? Or maybe you’d like to be dominated by an alpha?” She cocked a brow at him and her grin turned lascivious.

“I’m fond of you, but I’d rather not know what you’re packing beneath those robes. No, Hawke, it’s simply economics. Dwarf romances don’t sell on the surface. Oh, and by the way, we don’t actually like being called 'beta’.”

Hawke opened her mouth to reply only to be knocked sprawling across the ground by an explosion of jagged ice ripping up from the ground at their feet. She was already springing up, staff in hand to confront their attackers. Isabela had taken the brunt of the blast. Her feet were encased in ice, rooting her to the ground. She chipped at the ice, cursing up a storm with each wild swing of her dagger. Sebastian had escaped the initial attack, only to be encased inside a crushing telepathic prison. He floated about six inches off the ground, unable to move or scream as he was pressed in on an sides by an invisible weight. Hawke felt her blood boil at the sight.

She ran toward him, not hearing Varric cry, “Hawke! Stop! It’s a-”

She froze, locked in place by the glyph hidden in the dust. Varric was beside her, as still and silent as a statue, one hand still reaching out to grasp hold of her arm.

“Well, well, what a fine catch.” The bandits stepped out of their hiding places, their spellcaster among them. He twirled his staff arrogantly, pleased with his well-laid traps. Their leader shot Hawke a jolly grin as he surveyed his captives. “We’ve got two alphas, a dwarf, and a pretty omega.”

“Not just any omega, that one’s Chantry,” one of the bandits jeered.

Their leader - a burly man with a bushy, red beard - sauntered over to Sebastian, looking him appreciatively up and down. “Fruit should be tasted when ripe. Seems a shame to let such a sweet piece go to waste.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” Isabela snarled, flinging her dagger through the air and catching the red-haired bandit in the shoulder.

The mage was on her in a second, sending a wave of winter frost down upon Isabela’s shoulders, freezing her until she was as ensnarled as the rest of them. “Oh, fuck,” the leader hissed and touched his wound gingerly before wrenching the blade from his shoulder in one swift pull. “Give me a potion.”

The mage tossed him a jar of murky red liquid. The red-haired man tossed it back with a grimace. Already the wound was beginning to seal up on itself. “Fucking alpha bitch,” the leader swore and rounded on Sebastian. “I suppose she was looking to put her knot in you. How about it, Chantry? Would you spread your legs for that pirate wench?”

Hawke twitched. How did he know Isabela was a pirate? Or that Sebastian was a Brother? It wasn’t as if he was wearing his robes.

“Drop him.”

The mage hit his staff against the ground and the barrier around Sebastian dissipated. He collapsed on his knees, taking deep sucking breaths now that his lungs were no longer being squeezed inside his ribcage. Sebastian grasped for his bow, tried to string it with shaking hands, only to earn himself a kick in the face. He fell back and the bandit was on top of him, one hand clenched tightly in his hair, the other rubbing between his legs. “I bet I could make you wet for it,” he whispered.

Hawke was going to tear his fucking throat out.


	2. Chapter 2

Sebastian tried to knock him off, but the other five bandits were there, holding his arms down. Their rat-faced spellcaster grasped hold of Sebastian’s mouth, squeezing until he had no choice but to open it. A bottle was immediately pushed between his lips. Sebastian jerked his head to the side and spat green-colored liquid in their bushy-haired leader’s face. The man pulled back his fist and punched him. Then again. And again. Until blood was running from Sebastian’s nose and down his face, choking him. “Maker forgive you because I never will,” he hissed before the bottle was once more pressed against his mouth.

Sebastian struggled for about a minute more, while the others held him down and laughed, content to ride out his resistance for however long it might take. But then his movements changed and he was no longer pulling away, but rubbing against the warm body that laid on top of him. “That’s it, pet,” their leader crooned. “I knew I could make you wet. Are you a virgin, sweet pet? I bet you’re just dying for a good, hard fucking. The Maker couldn’t give it to you like I could.”

He pulled on Sebastian’s boots, yanking his trousers along with them. Sebastian kept his eyes closed. His face, twisted with shame and horror, contrasted his writhing, aching body. With a final tug, the bandit left Sebastian completely bare from the waist down. He drew his knees up to hide himself but the bandit easily pried them apart. “Such a sweet pet.” The man fumbled with his belt. “I’ve got what you want. You’re fucking hungry for it.”

Hawke couldn’t actually see when the bandit penetrated him, but Sebastian’s body was suddenly jerked back and he gave out a cry that was half-pained and half-wanting. The bandit snapped his hips forward, rough and fast, pulling breathy sobs from Sebastian’s lips every time he shoved forward. “You feel so good. You’ve done this before, haven’t you, slut? I bet you get passed around every Chantry alpha… oh, fuck… I knew there was something up with that. What kind of alpha could swear off sex? ‘Cause they’re fucking all the sweet Chantry omegas. How about it, pet? Does the Grand Cleric bend you over the pulpit and fuck your tight, little hole?”

Sebastian thrashed against him at that, pulling and kicking so that the others had to force him into submission. The bandit’s thrusting grew erratic and he reached down to grasp hold of his cock at the same time he tried pushing forward. It took a moment for Hawke to realize what he was doing. He came inside Sebastian, but kept his hand on his knot, preventing it from breaching him. After a few seconds, he pulled away. “Alright, Davies, your turn. Remember, no knotting.” The bandit sounded so matter-of-fact, like he was conducting a business transaction. “We needed to get in and get out, so to speak. Those glyphs aren’t going to last forever.” He threw a wink at Hawke.

The spellcaster - Davies, apparently - nodded and took position between Sebastian’s legs. Unlike their leader, he remained silent as he forced his way inside. It didn’t matter; the red-haired man spoke enough for the both of them. “How does that feel, my pet? You’re going to get so fat with our babes. This is what the Maker made you for. You were created to take alpha cock, to birth our children. Why would you deny His plan for you? It’s the only thing that will make you happy. You’re so pretty, I’d bet you’d make beautiful children.”

Davies punched in and out with an air of disinterest. When he came, it was perfunctory. The third man was cruel. He thrusts were brutal, tearing into Sebastian and leaving behind rivers of blood to drip down his thighs. He grinned and laughed at Sebastian’s screams, mocking his cries. By the time the sixth and last bandit took his turn, Sebastian laid limply on the ground, his voice too hoarse to attempt any protest.

* * *

By the time the glyphs wore off, Sebastian was beginning to stir again. He reached down between himself, grimacing at the blood and cum he found there. As soon as the wards broke, Hawke was bounding towards him, feeling half-mad with fear and anger. She stretched out her hand, wanting to pull him towards her, hold him close and never let go.

He flinched at her touch.

“Go help Isabela,” Varric commanded, already fitting one long, tan leg into dust-covered trousers with a delicate care. “I’ll see to him.”

Hawke could feel the rage crawling beneath her skin as she watched Varric set to work. If he had been an alpha she might have just attacked him for daring to touch Sebastian. The stench of blood and semen lingered in the air, but worst of all was the scent of heat coming off of Sebastian in waves. It tasted bitter on her tongue, unnatural and strangely chemical. It made the dark place inside howl. She wanted to find those bandits, set them on fire and watch them burn.

Hawke pulled herself away before she did anything rash. Despite what the Arishok thought, she was not a slave to her baser instincts. The ice that had encased Isabela was already breaking down, unable to maintain itself without the spellcaster’s magics. A little bit of magefire helped it along until Isabela stood shivering in front of Hawke, whole and well if a bit cold.

“T-they were C-c-crows,” Isabela whispered through blue-tinged lips.

Hawke had been rubbing warm hands down the rogue’s arms, but she paused when she heard this. “What? What do you mean 'Crows’?”

“Antivan C-c-crows. An order of assassins. I recognized the tattoos. S-someone paid good money to hire them.”

“Most likely it’d be one of Sebastian’s rivals for Starkhaven, but why go to the trouble of hiring assassins and not kill him? Why do… this?” Hawke hissed.

Isabela let out short laugh, low and bitter and angry. “Oh, the games these nobles play,” she said. Her mouth was twisted up into something terrible: a half-snarl, half-manic grin. “Trust me, there will be a reason for this. More than likely, this is just step one of a long con.”

Hawke looked back at Sebastian. He was standing with his hand braced on Varric’s shoulder, his legs as shaky as a newborn colt’s. Now was not the time to worry about future attacks; if the Antivan Crows decided to return, then Hawke would be waiting. No use in worrying Sebastian about it though, he had enough to deal with it at the moment. Hawke watched him for a moment, at the way his normally neat hair fell across his eyes and obscured his face. She ached to help him, but… she had never been very good at comforting. Hawke cautiously approached Sebastian and reached into her pouch for a health poultice, offering it up silently. He shook his head and pushed it away. Of course he wouldn’t want to drink anything after the potion the Crows had forced down his throat. Hawke shifted awkwardly, feeling stupid for not realizing it sooner. “We should get you back to the Chantry,” Hawke said quietly. “The Grand Cleric can summon a Circle healer.”

“I want to go to Anders’s clinic,” Sebastian interrupted. His gaze remained firmly fixed at his feet.

The dark, animal part of her brain rose at the sound of another alpha’s name on Sebastian’s lips. Isabela she could deal with; the rogue had Merrill, she was no threat, but Anders… “Are you sure?” Hawke asked. “We could make sure your healer was an omega.”

Finally, Sebastian looked up. “Hawke, if I walk into the Chantry smelling like sex and heat, what do you think they’re going to assume? You’re a mercenary. Isabela is a pirate. Both of you have earned your fair share of enemies. They will say that you ra…. that you forced me and ignore anything I might say to the contrary. They’ll claim that I won’t know what I’m talking about, that I’m too 'heat-addled’ to know what really happened. Nobody will look at me twice in Darktown; they’ve probably seen worse down there.”

Hawke nodded slowly. “Alright, if that’s what you want. We’ll go see Anders.”

Sebastian shot her a grateful smile and reached out to her. She went to him immediately, wrapping her arm around his waist to give him something to lean on.

* * *

Sebastian felt hot and anxious, like his skin was too small for his body. He wanted to tear it off of him. He wanted to run, and keep running, it didn’t matter where he ended up. Worst of all, he wanted to throw himself on Anders and beg him to get rid of this terrible heat. Pride had long since fallen by the wayside, along with whatever virtue he possessed. The only thing stopping him was the pain. Every time he moved it felt like he was being ripped in half.

Anders’s hands glowed white as they moved across his abdomen, healing the injuries those bandits had inflicted on him. Finally, Anders stumbled back and collapsed on a chair, exhausted and worn out. “That’s all I can do for now,” he said, apologetically. “Do you know what they made you drink?”

“No. It was green, though, and it felt like… I have never had a heat to come so quick.”

Anders nodded, looking lost in thought. “I’d give you something to dull the symptoms, but I’m not sure what the reaction will be if mixed with this mystery potion. It looks like you’re going to have to ride it out. Since it’s not a natural heat there’s a good possibility it won’t last long, maybe a day or two at most. When were you due for your next one?”

Sebastian sighed. He was afraid he was going to say that. “Not for another two months.”

“I’m going to prescribe you a tincture of pennyroyal,” Anders stated as he stood up and headed over to his makeshift workbench. There were bushels of herbs and flowers lying across every available surface. Sebastian didn’t know the names of half of them, but he recognized the blue flower that Anders picked up. It was a common weed found across the Free Marches. Anders began to pluck the leaves off and put them in a pouch for Sebastian to take. “If you don’t get your heat in two months as scheduled, use this. A simple tea will be effective, so there’s no need to call on the services of a potionbrewer. It is deadly in large doses, so only use a little.”

Sebastian frowned as he took the pouch. “What does it do?”

His stomach turned to knots at the pitying look Anders gave him. “It’s an abortifacient.”

That crawling heat suddenly cooled at his words and Sebastian found himself leaning over the side of the cot. There was hand that wasn’t his own mopping cold sweat from his brow. “Don’t hold back, go ahead and throw up if you need to,” the healer said. “This floor has seen worse.”

“The heat wasn’t natural! You said so yourself!” Sebastian accused. “And now you’re telling me I might be pregnant?!”

“A heat is only triggered by ovulation. No ovulation, no heat. There is a possibility that the potion they gave you only mimics the symptoms, but we won’t know for sure until a couple of months from now.”

Sebastian’s head swam. He tried to steady his breathing, but it felt like all the air was being sucked from the room. Maker, how could he have been so weak? Elthina had warned him something like this would happen, but he didn’t listen. He never listened. He didn’t listen to her when she told him not to pursue his family’s murderers, and he didn’t listen when she said not to follow Hawke, and now he was paying the price. He had ruined everything. “I want to go home,” Sebastian mumbled. He wanted to be back in Starkhaven and sit on his grandfather’s knee and listen to the old man hum some ancient, nameless tune like he had when he was a child.

A gust of alpha pheromones blasted through the room as Hawke pushed her way inside. It was hot and biting, heady with adrenaline, and it re-lit the spark in Sebastian’s belly. “What did you do to him?” She demanded, raking her sharp gaze over the pair of them. Her fists sparked and clench as she took in Sebastian’s distress and Anders’s close proximity.

Anders held up his hands in an attempt to placate her, cocking his brow at her posturing. “Do you really want to fight me?” He asked. He could feel his skin crackle blue as Justice rattled against Hawke’s blatant challenge.

“Hawke,” Sebastian spoke, tearing the alpha’s gaze from her perceived rival. “Is it alright if I stay with you until this passes?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Anders stated. He folded his arms and looked at Hawke with barely contained contempt. It was clear that he thought Hawke would try to take advantage of the situation. She had made her intentions towards Sebastian clear; anyone who knew her - anyone but Sebastian himself, that is - would think the same.

“I’ll keep him safe,” she ground out, her hackles rising at the knowledge that the abomination of all people thought her untrustworthy. “There’s a hidden entrance through the manor’s cellar. We can avoid Hightown and anyone who might recognize you.”

“Yes,” Sebastian breathed. “I want to go now.”

* * *

Hawke kept to herself the three days Sebastian stayed with her. She got updates on his care from her mother and Orana, but it was still difficult. Her skin itched to see him. Not because she was an alpha or for any reason like that, but because she just wanted to know if he was alright. How he was doing. She felt like a terrible friend leaving him to deal with this on her own. And wasn’t that the kicker? Hawke didn’t have friends. The closest she could claim was this boy she knew in Lothering. William, his name was. He had been in love with the miller’s daughter for years, but he was just the son of some poor tenant farmer. So, he left for Denerim to make his fortune. He wrote to Hawke, telling her about how he had gotten a job at a shop and that he’d hoped to make enough to buy a house and marry Elizabeth soon. He poured out all of his hopes and dreams to her and Hawke took that away from him. When her father died, Hawke had to find some way of supporting her family. She would do anything to keep them from starving. Elizabeth owned a mill, she was practically nobility by Lothering standards. Marrying her seemed like the sensible solution. So, Hawke told Elizabeth that William had met someone new in Denerim. She had been devastated, but had accepted Hawke’s courting gifts just the same. Whether it was because she wanted to get back at William or she thought she couldn’t do any better, Hawke never knew. Carver had been furious with his sister, called her a monster, said she had no feelings. It wasn’t exactly true. There might have been some twinge of guilt, but her love for her family outweighed that. Outweighed any sense of morality. She would do what was needed.

Of course, Elizabeth died when the darkspawn overran Lothering before the wedding could take place. Not that it mattered, since Lothering - and the mill - were no more. But Hawke had found a new target in the form of a prince. Except… he wasn’t just an easy mark. Not anymore at least.

Hawke cautiously approached Sebastian as he stood in her hallway, a bag at his feet, like she was afraid he might startle and run at the sight of her. Instead, he just smiled at her and nodded up at the portraits that lined the entryway of her home. The unnatural stench of heat had dissipated and Sebastian seemed almost perfectly at ease, if it were not for the unusual pallor to his skin and the tightness around his eyes. “Is this your father and sister?” He asked. The two portraits had been drawn with charcoal on rough brown paper by her mother. They looked comical sitting next to the grand, gilded painting that had been done of Leandra when she was just a young girl, but they were the only portraits she had of Malcolm and Bethany.

“That’s them,” Hawke answered. “Mother tried to do one of Carver as well, but he refused to sit still long enough. So, I did his portrait myself.” She pointed to a crudely drawn stick figure that her mother had hung up.

Sebastian laughed at the unhappy scowl Hawke had scribbled on his face. “I only saw him that one time in the Chantry when you came to tell me that the mercenaries who murdered my family were dead, but… the resemblance is uncanny.”

“Carver was so mad when Mother framed it and put it up with the others. These pictures were the only things Mother took with her when we fled. They don’t exactly go with the décor, a little too country for Hightown-”

Sebastian shook his head, cutting her off. “No. I like them. I wish I had a portrait of my family. I haven’t seen their faces in… years. Over a decade.”

“There’s not any paintings of them?”

“Oh, there are, but they’re all at the palace in Starkhaven. Just as well, they’re monstrously large. I wouldn’t have anywhere to put them in my Chantry cell, even if Goran decided to give them to me.” Sebastian sighed, suddenly looking drawn and weary. “I should go. The Grand Cleric must be wondering where I am. I’m sure she’s heard that you’ve returned by now. I’ll have to think of something to tell her.”

“Do you…” Hawke hesitated, suddenly feeling awkward once more. “Do you want me to go with you? Run interference?” Maker, she sounded they were about go into battle. Hawke wanted to bash her head against the wall. Why couldn’t she just act like a normal human being for once?

Sebastian gave a small smile. “No, thank you. I think that might actually be worse. The Grand Cleric has some concerns about you.”

“Alright, but if you need anything…”

“You’ll be the first person I’ll turn to.” The small smile grew larger. “You were there when others weren’t, and I’ll always be thankful for that.”

He gave her a princely bow before leaving, and Hawke’s heart clenched at the sight. He was wrong, she wasn’t there. She had failed him, just like she had failed Bethany and Carver. She wasn’t going to let that happen again. She was going to find out who ordered the attack and make them pay.


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian leaned heavily against the wall, trying to steady his breathing. His hands were clenched tightly around the letter clutched in his fists, hard enough that his knuckles were beginning to ache, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. It had been two months and his heat hadn’t come.

Elthina had known something was wrong the moment he had returned, but she hadn’t pushed. He knew she wanted him to come to her on his own. But he just… couldn’t. Elthina had so much faith in him, he couldn’t disappoint her again. He should have fought harder, it wasn’t even a real heat, he could have done something. But he just let it happen. How was he suppose to explain that?

He didn’t have a choice any longer. He had to tell her.

Sebastian reluctantly pushed himself away from the wall, shoving the letter in his pocket, and slowly made his way through the Chantry. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead as he knocked on her office door.

“Enter.”

Elthina lifted her head at the sight of Sebastian hesitantly sitting down across from her desk. Sebastian was anything but hesitant. If anything he was too stubborn, but then he hadn’t himself in weeks now. He was quieter, more cautious, and rarely went traipsing after Hawke anymore. She should have been pleased by the change - she had been telling him for years that he should think more instead of allowing himself to be blown about by his whims - but now… She just wanted her Sebastian back, not this haunted shell he had become. “Sebastian, come in. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Sebastian folded his shaking hands in his lap and took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Stunned silence filled the office as Elthina could only stare at him. Whatever she had thought he was going to say, that wasn’t it.

The silence only lasted for a minute and then she was up and pacing, alpha pheromones hanging thickly in the air. It made Sebastian’s stomach knot with fear, breathing new life into terrible memories. “It’s Hawke’s.” She said with such conviction, like there was never any doubt.

“No,” Sebastian answered, even though she hadn’t asked.

“No?” Elthina snapped. “Who else could it be!? If you’re protecting her-”

“It’s not Hawke’s.”

All the fight seemed to drain out of her and she collapsed back into her chair. She looked tired and ancient. “Were you forced?” She asked quietly.

“No.” He wanted to say yes, to restore a little bit of her faith in him, but it just wouldn’t be true. Maybe in the beginning, but by the end he had been a willing participant.

Elthina closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “We could get you an abortion. Orsino is very discreet-”

“What?” Sebastian interrupted. How could the Grand Cleric suggest something like that? “It goes against Chantry teaching. I won’t do it.” He had tossed the pennyroyal Anders had given him as soon as he had reached Hawke’s mansion. Whatever came it was his burden to bear.

“Fine time to start obeying Chantry law!” Elthina snapped, before regaining control of her anger with a grimace. “I’m sorry, it’s just… You don’t have many options. You are a sworn omega to the Maker. You are, in a sense, already married. You cannot have a child out of wedlock. It would humiliate the Chantry to allow it to go unpunished. I would rather not see you placed in the stocks with a sign labeled ‘adulterer’ hanging around your neck.”

“You could release me from my vows. If I’m no longer a brother then they would have no authority to punish me.”

“And then what, Sebastian?” Elthina asked. “What would you do? You know how conservative Starkhaven is, they would never accept you as prince if you’re carrying some alpha’s bastard child. Are you going to become a mercenary like your friend Hawke? Do you really think that is a good environment to raise a child?”

“I could marry,” Sebastian offered quietly, pulling the letter from his pocket and offering it to her. “Goran sent me the first proposal almost a year ago, but I turned him down. I’ve been receiving a new one almost every other week now. Apparently, he’s been having some difficulty legitimizing his rule; not all of the nobility will recognize him as their lord. He thinks uniting the two branches of the Vael family is the best way to end the dispute. This way both of us win.”

Elthina sighed. “I just wanted you to be able to choose your own destiny.”

“Nobody gets to choose their destiny.”

“That’s the truth,” Elthina said with a snort. “I can’t imagine your friend Hawke is pleased with this plot. You do know she wanted to claim you for herself.”

Sebastian bit his lip. “Hawke has been a very good friend, she has never acted untoward to me. I am sure she will support me… when I tell her.” Seeing the look Elthina shot him Sebastian quickly countered. “I haven’t said anything yet. Her mother just died and I didn’t want to burden her with my problems. But I will tell her.”

* * *

“What?” Hawke demanded. “What do you mean 'married’? Look, I know… I know things are looking pretty grim right now but you can’t marry Goran. You said he was an idiot!”

Sebastian flushed. “I’m sure I didn’t put it exactly like that.”

“Think about it, Sebastian. Is this really what you want? Being trapped in a marriage with a man you can’t stand? Who wouldn’t even give you the paintings of your family? We’ll find another way around this.”

“There isn’t one. Marriage is the only way to save my reputation.”

Hawke ground her teeth. “Your reputation isn’t on the line! You did nothing wrong!”

“That’s kind of you, but not everyone will see it that way.”

Hawke wanted to scream. She wanted to hunt down those Crows and murder them. She wanted Sebastian. “Fine, then marry me!”

Sebastian blinked, completely cut-off guard. “What?”

“Marry me. I’ll claim the kid. Problem solved.”

“Hawke,” he said, his face a mixture of exasperation and indulgence. Like she was a child who couldn’t understand the complexities of the world. “Despite your low opinion of Kirkwall’s nobility, they are capable of basic mathematics. It won’t be hard for them to figure out I was already pregnant before the wedding, when I was still a brother. That is a punishable offense. Goran is nobility, the rules are different for people like him, but you… your neighbors have been looking for a reason to send you packing back to Lowtown. They’ll come after you.”

“And you don’t think Goran will be upset when he finds out that his firstborn isn’t his?”

Sebastian shrugged. “He won’t do anything, not in public at any rate. He’ll want to save face.”

“So, I just have to worry about what he’ll do in private?”

Whatever Sebastian was going to say was cut off by Aveline and Isabela. They burst through the door, pushing at each other to reach Hawke first.

“Hawke, we’ve got a problem with the Arishok-”

“I’m dying!” Isabela cut off.

What could they have possibly gotten into? Hawke held up a hand to halt their harried explanations. “Alright, alright, I’ll go with you two. Sebastian, stay here. We’ll finish our conversation later. I mean it, Sebastian, do not move.” She pointed a finger at him when he opened his mouth to protest. “I will be back.”

* * *

Her heart thudded in her chest as her eyes darted about the room, searching for the tell-tale gleam of Sebastian’s armor. She had raced all the way back to Hightown, only to find the door to her mansion thrown wide open and Sebastian missing. She prayed he was here in the Viscount’s Keep, with the other nobles, and not lying dead in the street somewhere.

“I accept your duel,” Hawke answered. She could do this. All she had to do was take down the Arishok and then she could find Sebastian.

“Meravas! So shall it be.”

Hawke did not shriek like a little girl. Varric was a filthy liar and Hawke was going to have every one of his books burned. She may have cried out, stumbled, when the Arishok swung his monstrous sword to her, but that was it! Hawke threw herself to the ground, rolling out of the way as the blade crashed into the floor beside her, sending tile flying everywhere. She could use her magic, but with all these witnesses… 

She had no choice. She was going to die if she didn’t.

Hawke closed her eyes and pushed out with her mind, sending the Arishok reeling from the Mind Blast and giving Hawke enough time to scramble away. She didn’t think, she just called down the fire. The nobles screamed and pushed themselves along the wall as fireball after fireballs crashed through the ceiling on the Arishok. He behind a stone column, seeking shelter. “Bas Sarabaas!” She heard him rage. Hawke didn’t let up her assault. As soon as he came around, she released her fire and watched the skin from his nose burn away and his ears turn black. He did not stop his charge.

The Arishok crashed into her and Hawke tried to gasp, to call out, as she felt her ribs snap, but nothing came out. She couldn’t breathe! The Arishok stumbled back and Hawke saw an arrow lodged in his shoulder. She looked up and saw Sebastian in the crowd, trying to notch another in his bow before the Arishok’s guards could reach him.

She had to act now. Hawke sent out another telekinetic burst, this time using it to crush the Arishok into the floor. She did not let up, she used the Fist of the Maker like an avalanche, slowly crushing the Arishok to death. She only let up when she heard something snap and the man sagged limply on the ground.

Sebastian was by her side in an instant, grinning down at her. She almost didn’t hear the cheering of the crowd, or Meredith proclaiming her the city’s Champion. She was free. The Templars couldn’t touch her now. “So?” Hawke asked, wheezing slightly as her lungs strained against her broken ribs. “How about now? Will you marry me now?”

For a moment, Sebastian just stared at her dumbfounded. Then he laughed and shook his head. “Alright, Hawke. I’ll marry you.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You are not getting on that thing,” Hawke stated forcefully.

The stallion continued to buck and kick. One stablehand had already been rushed to a healer after the wild beast had bitten off his ear. Sebastian stared at it like he had never seen anything more beautiful and shifted the babe on his hip. “All he needs is to be broken in-”

“By someone other than you.”

“Hawke, I have plenty of experience. Starkhaven is famed for its horses. My family bred warhorses, I was taming them since I was just a lad.”

“I grew up around horses. That thing isn’t a horse, it’s a demon.”

“You rode plow drafts. This is a purebred Orlesian Courser. You’ll need to ride him during the hunt if you want to be accepted at Chateau Haine.”

“Still doesn’t have to be you. Let Monsieur What’s-His-Face break him in. That’s what I pay him for. Give me my son.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes but handed off the boy. He was a chubby thing, with fat little cheeks and big brown eyes. His skin was dark, but his hair was the same shade of auburn as Sebastian’s. He didn’t look anything like Hawke, but no one was brave enough to mention it to her face. She knew the rumors, knew that Hightown gossiped about them- about Sebastian. He had been known to them before, when he was still a wild youth, and they had wondered if an omega like him could have changed his ways. The baby was all the proof they needed. They clucked their tongues and sighed: poor Hawke, a good alpha like that taken in by a manipulative little tart like Sebastian Vael! When news broke of the birth, that the baby couldn’t possibly be Hawke’s, the nobles all watched with glee at what their Champion would do. To their shock and amazement, not only had Hawke claimed the child but she had given the boy her father’s name. It had been a long, hard road to recovery and Sebastian still struggled at times, especially when it came to gossipmongers. But Hawke would be there, no matter what. Whatever it took.

Malcolm scrunched up his face as Hawke carried him out of the courtyard, his little hand reaching out towards the horse. “No, no,” Hawke cooed, hoping to stave off the crocodile tears. “You don’t want that mean, old horse. I’ll get you a pony.”

She could hear Sebastian laughing behind her. “You’re going to spoil him, Hawke!”

Hawke entered the mansion, only to stop short when she saw Bodahn ushering Isabela and Merrill across the threshold. “Good morning, can I offer you something to eat? Some stew? We’ve just received a fresh shipment of horsemeat.”

Merrill’s eyes grew wide and reproachful. “Oh, you don’t mean that, do you? You can’t slaughter him! He’s just cranky. I bet he’s really gentle underneath it all.”

Isabela slung her arm around the elf. “Of course not. That would upset Sebastian.” She clicked her tongue then, making it sound like a whip snapping.

“Go on, Merrill, the horse is out back, still terrorizing the servants no doubt.” 

Merrill bounded towards the courtyard, practically skipping. As soon as she had left, Isabela said, “I’ve tracked down who those Crows were working for.”

“Was it Starkhaven?”

“Goran, himself.”

Hawke pursed her lips. “Did you know Sebastian still receives proposals from him? At least once a month. Says that he can secure an annulment, he has an agreement with a Grand Cleric, all Sebastian needs to do is say the word. He would have married him too, if I hadn’t become Champion. Not because he wanted to, Sebastian told me he turned him down dozens of times before.”

“You think this was all a plot to force Sebastian to say yes?”

“Goran’s holding on to that throne by a thread. If Sebastian had ‘mysteriously’ wound up dead, Goran would have been chased out of the city. But if he married him… well, that makes everything legitimate, doesn’t it?”

Isabela smirked. “I found out something else: Goran has been invited by Duke Prosper to join the hunt. He’ll be at Chateau Haine. How do you want to do it?” There was no questioning what 'it’ was. There could be only one response. The question was the method. They would have to be careful. It was an open secret she was a mage, but Meredith was becoming increasingly hostile towards her presence. Killing a Marcher lord might turn the people against her and she could find herself in the Gallows.

She could hear the voices of Sebastian and Merrill floating up from the courtyard, and the angry whinneys of the stallion. “I may have an idea."

* * *

"Ah, the Champion of Kirkwall,” Duke Prosper called out from across the garden. There was a man standing beside him and even if he had not been wearing the Starkhaven insignia on his tunic, Hawke would have recognized the family resemblance. Goran. “I am pleased that you were able to join us. But what of your husband and the young Master Hawke?”

“It’s Master Vael, actually,” Hawke said with an amiable smile as she slid off of the back of Sebastian’s beast of a stallion. Sebastian had named him Cocklebur, but Hawke had taken to calling the great monster Cockup, which irritated Sebastian to no end. To be fair, Sebastian had done wonders for the horse’s temperament, but Cocklebur still had tendency to react poorly when frightened and he was such a skittish thing. “Malcolm’s last name is Vael. There has always been a Vael in Starkhaven, and I would not see that tradition end.” She smiled, vicious and sharp, at the man beside the duke.

“My apologies,” Duke Prosper said with a small bow. “Please, allow me to introduce Prince Goran of Starkhaven. You two are now cousins, no? There must be so much you wish to discuss!” He smiled wide, laughing at his own little joke, before leaving them to attend to his other guests.

Goran looked at the ground, the sky, anywhere but at Hawke. “That is a fine looking horse, Champion. You’ll be riding him while on the hunt, I take it?”

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid he isn’t quite broken in yet. It looks like I’ll have to follow on foot. Sebastian said he would be able to do it in time, that Starkhaven was known for their horsemanship, but well…” Hawke shrugged. “I suppose Starkhaven techniques just aren’t good enough.”

Goran bristled and Hawke smiled wider. “Oh, no, he’s quite right. Starkhaven has produced some of the finest warhorses Thedas has ever seen. I, myself, am a master at training horses.”

“I don’t think anyone could train this horse.”

“Nonsense! A horse is only as good as his master.”

“Well, if you’re sure… Perhaps we could trade horses. You could ride Cocklebur, and I can ride your horse. I’d like to see how a master would handle him.”

Goran smiled, arrogant and so sure of himself. “I think that is an excellent idea, Champion.”

* * *

Hawke had to hand it to him: he was good.

“A good rider does not jerk on the reigns. A well-trained horse will respond to the lightest of commands.” He barely tugged on the reigns and like a blood mage’s thrall, Cocklebur obeyed. “Come, we should speed up. We’re falling behind.”

Hawke suddenly jerked back, her finger reaching out to point at a grove of trees, away from the other hunters. “Look! What was that?”

Goran sat up in his seat, trying to get a better look. “What was what?”

I just saw something large dart through the forest. Do you think it could be a wyvern?“

"Possibly. Should we signal the others?”

“And lose the advantage? I think not! Come on!” Hawke dug her heels into the sides of Goran’s horse and took off, Goran and Cocklebur quickly following behind them.

“You are not as terrible as I had first thought!” Goran called out, laughing as they raced through the trees, leaping over logs and ravines.

Hawke grinned back, noting that they could no longer see the other hunters. They were alone.

Fire leapt from Hawke’s hand, shooting straight up into the sky.

In fear and panic, Cocklebur reacted just as Hawke knew he would. He reared, bucking and kicking, and Goran flew from his back, landing with a sickening thud against the ground. Hawke whistled an old lullaby to herself as she climbed down and walked to where Goran lay. He was groaning, his legs squirming, but she knew he wouldn’t be able to get up. “Go get the others,” he commanded in a wispy voice. “I need-”

“Hey, now, no need to trouble yourself,” Hawke said as she squatted beside him. “I think we should have a talk. Alpha to alpha.”

For a moment, Goran just stared up at her uncomprehendingly. And then it hit him: she knew. She knew everything. Hawke smiled as his eyes grew wide and fearful. “Why did you order the attack on Sebastian? Was it just to marry him?”

“I-I didn’t-” Goran stammered out, his lip trembling.

“None of that. Come now, be an alpha. Tell the truth. What would you have done about the child? Your firstborn, not being of your blood.”

Goran said nothing.

“You were planning on murdering the child, weren’t you? It’d be easy. Babies get sick, they die.”

“It wasn’t anything personal!” Goran finally broke, tears springing in the corners of his eyes. “It was just politics! This how it’s done! You would have done the same!”

“Oh, no doubt,” Hawke soothed. “I understand completely. I had to kill a lot of people to get where I am today. A lot. And, soon, you’ll just be another number.” She stood up and looked around, kicking at a few rocks scattered across the ground.

With a terrified gasp, Goran struggled to sit up. With his cracked ribs, his broken arm, he didn’t get very far. Hawke whistled as she picked up a rock, hefting it in her hand, judging its weight. “They’ll know it was you! You have motive! And magic leaves evidence!”

Hawke laughed. “I don’t need magic to kill you and everyone knows that horse was unpredictable. I warned you of that myself, in front of the Duke’s guests, but you insisted you could handle him. I even shot up a flare, remember? That fireball I sent into the sky? They’ll be coming soon, but it was too late. You hit your head on a rock as you fell.” Hawke leaned in close to whisper into his ear. “You see, I know how to play a long con too.” And then the rock came crashing down and all that was left was darkness and Hawke’s smiling face.


End file.
